


Love Will Tear Us Apart

by lyvanna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Oblivious Stiles, One vaguely dub-con kiss, Pack Feels, Protective Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyvanna/pseuds/lyvanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek have a spell cast on them making it so they can't touch. Which is no big deal because they never touch anyway. </p>
<p>Set in a (sort of) pre-S3 land where everyone is alive and there is no Alpha pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Will Tear Us Apart

Stiles pushed his way into Derek's apartment first. Behind him Scott and Jackson were arguing about who killed the most pixies despite the fact that he kept having to remind them that they were elves not pixies (“Dude don't say that, it creeps me out!”). Allison, who wasn't participating in the argument despite being clearly the superior elf-killer, followed after them cleaning off a machete. Boyd and Erica followed her with Boyd picking elf-guts out of Erica's hair. Derek and Isaac brought up the rear, Isaac carrying a brown sack of samples for Deaton. 

Stiles walked over to the couch and bent his knees--

“Stiles, don't you dare sit on my couch like that,”

Stiles froze, mid-crouch, and looked at Derek. He was eyeing the numerous bloodstains and other grime on Stiles' clothes. Stiles locked eyes with him and slowly dropped his butt onto the couch cushions. It was a bit of a douchey thing to do but seeing as half the stains on his clothes were from Derek shoving him to the ground several times when he was just about to kill an elf he thought the stains were mostly Derek's property anyway. 

Derek growled. The Werewolves froze. Allison kept cleaning the machete as if she'd heard nothing and Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“I'm tired,” he complained, kicking his feet out and putting them on the coffee table. It wasn't new, he and Scott had found it in a thrift shop a couples of weeks ago and brought it over, but Derek had looked so confused when they'd lugged it up the stairs and had just stood there staring at it like he couldn't understand kindness and oh hell now Stiles felt bad... he lifted his feet carefully off the table and looked up at Derek in time to see the Alpha stomping towards him, “Uh, Derek...” Stiles jumped up and backed away, “I was joking,” he made his way around the couch, keeping the advancing Derek in front of him, “I'll clean up, ok?” Derek followed him around the couch and Stiles darted closer to Scott for support. And by closer he meant pulled Scott in front of him like a Werewolf shield. Derek reached out for him and Scott stepped aside. Just as Stiles was crossing him off his Christmas card list something strange happened. Derek just stopped. His hand outstretched at about shoulder height hung in the air and a frown graced his face. 

“What are you doing?”

“What?” Stiles blinked, “Nothing,” he looked down at his feet, “Oh, the floor too? I can't help where I walk dude, Scott's shoes are way dirtier than mine--”

“No,” Derek snapped. He was leaning forward now on the spot like he was being blown by some kind of wind.

“What are you... Derek... is this mime?” Stiles was too weirded out to laugh but Jackson snorted behind him. 

“What's wrong Derek?” Boyd asked softly, walking over to him. 

“I can't... Boyd, touch Stiles,”

“Woah,” Stiles put his hands up, “I know the adrenaline is running high after the battle but you can wait until I leave before you start your Werewolf orgy... I mean not that Boyd isn't attractive but--”

Boyd ignored him and walked forward to press a hand against his shoulder. He looked back at Derek who was now scowling. He put his arm down and stopped leaning forward. Instead he started stepping slowly closer, like he sneaking up on the roadrunner or something. Stiles snorted at the mental image of Derek as Wile E. Coyote. Soon he stopped and he started scuffing his feet against the floor like he was a chicken digging for corn. 

Stiles may have been hit by some elf dust at some point. 

Slowly everyone started to move towards Stiles, like some kind of _Invasion of the Bodysnatchers_ dream. “Um, guys?” he asked, as each one of them touched him then looked at Derek who was still standing in the same spot, “What's going on?”

“There's some kind of barrier between you and Derek,” Erica explained, stepping back to look at the two of them.

“What? No there's not,” Stiles frowned and took a step towards Derek. Derek reeled backwards. Stiles blinked at him. He took another step forwards and this time Derek backed right up, frowning at him, “Oh my God...” 

“It's like you can't be within a few feet of each other,” Allison mused. 

“Is... is it just me? Can the rest of you...?” 

Stiles watched as the same process as before was repeated, except this time everyone was touching Derek and he was looking very uncomfortable. 

“Looks like it's just you two,” Scott said, stepping away from Derek quickly. 

“Interesting,” Isaac said. He walked through the space between Stiles and Derek but didn't seem to find anything there and shrugging stepped off to the side. 

Stiles looked at Derek and reached out his hands, “Does... does it hurt?” he asked before stepping forward and feeling around with his finger tips. They met something hard in the air. He raised his elbow and leant up against it. It held like a solid wall. He turned his head and grinned at Derek. “Oh my God it's like I'm a Vampire and I can't enter yo--”

Derek stepped backwards and with him the barrier moved and Stiles crashed to the floor. He blinked up at Scott who reached down to offer him a hand up, “I was going to say 'enter your home',” Stiles complained. Derek looked smug. 

“Guys this is pretty serious right? I mean someone must have put a spell on you or something,” Scott said, looking between the two of them. 

“I guess but... what a crappy spell!” Stiles looked around and saw that no-one else was looking amused, “I mean what is it supposed to accomplish? Me and Derek never touch, what is the point in keeping us apart?” 

Jackson mumbled something and Derek turned his face away. 

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Stiles put a hand around his ear and leant forward exaggeratedly. Jackson smirked,

“Nothing,” 

“I don't know but we need to break it right?” Scott asked. 

Stiles was still glaring at Jackson when he answered, “Why?” he turned to look at Derek, “I mean seems this works out pretty good for little old me. No more steering wheels to the face or threats to my delicate little throat,” he rubbed his hand against his adam's apple and narrowed his eyes as Derek tracked the movement. 

“Stiles, someone put a spell on you,” Scott reasoned, “Don't you think that's a bit worrying?” 

“Me? What about Derek? It definitely seems more likely that Derek has pissed someone off enough that they resorted to the black arts, I see how he tips the pizza guy,” 

“Maybe this is just the beginning, maybe they're going to put spells on all of us,” Erica said, turning to Boyd at her side. He brushed her arm with the back of his hand lightly. 

“This is... I mean I know we have Werewolves and Kanimas and whatever Deaton is but... spells?” Allison raised her eyebrows sceptically. 

“How do you explain this then Allison?” Stiles asked, surprised at the irritation in his own voice. Allison stepped forward and grabbed his hand around the wrist in a tight grip. Stiles squeaked and was about to submit when she reached his hand out and pressed it against the barrier. She put her own hand over the top and squidged his up against it. Hard. After a moment she let him go and he shook out his hand with an, “Ow,”

“There's definitely something there,” she conceded to the rest of the group. 

“Derek?” Isaac asked. Stiles turned around to look at Derek who was being strangely quiet at this whole situation. He was leaning up against the wall examining his shoes. 

“Fix it,” he said quietly. 

“Um, ok,” Isaac frowned. He exchanged a glance with the other Werewolves that clearly meant something. Stiles sighed with exasperation and Derek finally looked up. He stepped away from the wall and Stiles backed up slowly to let him stand closer to the group. An awkward silence fell and Stiles had no idea why. He tapped his foot for a moment then started filling it,

“So what, we go to Deaton or--?”

“Hello boys and girls,” Peter said as he walked into the room, clearly having judged that enough time had passed since Derek had requested their presence to go clear out a nest of elves that he wouldn't be asked to join in. He paused at the scene before him. Everyone was looking at Stiles and Derek. A wicked grin spread across Peter's face, “What's going on?” 

“Stiles and Derek can't touch. There's some kind of magical barrier between them,” Boyd explained.

“Know anything about it?” Derek asked, glaring at his uncle. Peter's grin grew and he stepped closer to Stiles as if inspecting him. 

“Oh, isn't that cute, clearly someone wants to keep Stiles safe,” 

“Safe?” Stiles blinked at Peter who was entirely to close for comfort. 

“Yes. Away from the pack. Of course they could just be doing it to get you alone to kill you,” Peter tapped a finger against his chin, “But then they wouldn't have limited it just to Derek. It must be to keep you away from my nephew's awful habit of getting people killed,” 

Derek growled and moved towards him but couldn't cross the barrier. 

“Hey,” Stiles frowned, shoving Peter's shoulder in an attempt to get him away, “I'm not your jerk shield,” 

“Fascinating,” Peter said, watching Derek push against the barrier. He blinked after a moment and straightened, “But to answer your earlier question, no it wasn't me,” 

“Any idea how to break it?” Stiles asked tensely. 

“Oh, do you want to break it?” Peter asked innocently, looking down at Stiles. 

“Yes,” Stiles said. At exactly the same time Derek said,

“No,”

Stiles turned to glare at him, “No?” His question was echoed by a few other people in the room as well.

“Peter is right,” Derek said to a point above Stiles' head, “This could keep Stiles out of trouble,” 

“Um, excuse me, keep me out of trouble? You guys need me in your trouble, I'm the one always saving your hairy asses!” 

Derek snorted. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Derek,” Boyd reasoned, “We don't know what else this spell does or if it will get worse or who--”

“No no,” Stiles butted in, voice loud, “If Derek doesn't want it lifted, we won't have it lifted, let's see how long you last without me big guy,”

“Stiles, you know we need you--” Scott started.

“You guys can still have the benefit of my expertise any time you want. These guys,” he wiggled his fingers, “At your disposal,” he moved away from Peter and slapped Scott on the shoulder, “Derek can apparently take care of himself,” 

“Stiles,” Derek said slowly, “If I can't come near you, you can't--,” 

“Well tough titty Derek, since you can't threaten me anymore you pretty much have no way of making me do anything you say,”

“I'm not making you--”

“Nu-uh,” Stiles made a zipping motion with his fingers over his lips, “You want the No Touching rule, I'm bringing in No Talking.” Derek shut his mouth, lips drawing thin as he scowled, “Good. Well, seeing as I'm not _needed_ here,” he raised a hand in an aggressive wave and stormed out of the door. Scott glanced around, a little lost, then followed after him. Derek stood glaring at the door.

“Ok,” Erica said slowly, breaking the silence, “Dibs on the first shower,” 

“Jackson's already in there,” Allison informed her, “he said he was bored and went in about ten minutes ago,” 

“Great that's all my shampoo gone,” Erica grumbled, stomping off in the direction of the bathroom.

~

“Can you believe that jerk?” Stiles ranted as he drove Scott home. It might have been the fifth or sixth time he'd asked the question and Scott had given up trying to respond, “Acting like I'm the one getting you guys into trouble, Scott I love you but trouble is like your middle name, your spirit animal and your aura colour. And don't even get me started on Derek.”

“I didn't,” Scott muttered.

“He attracts bad stuff like some giant bad-stuff magnet. You know how many times I've saved his life? Well not any more. I bet he cast this spell. I bet he got out his incense and his special candles and danced naked--” Stiles swallowed, “naked around a bush or something just to get rid of me. Well congratulations it worked. Now have fun saving your own ass!” 

Stiles paused to breath and Scott offered quietly, “I don't think this was Derek,”

“Yeah? Well... he seems pretty happy about it,”

“I wouldn't say that,”

“Please Scott, did you see him? He was wagging his little tail he was so pleased. I can read Derek, it's all in the eyebrows,” 

“Really,” Scott snorted, turning to look out of the window.

“Yes really. But uh... seriously Scott...” Stiles' anger died a little, “Derek aside why is someone putting spells on me?” 

“I can ask Deaton--”

“No! Then Derek will know that I caved.” 

“Maybe look in the bestiary then?” 

“Yeah... yes! I'll do my own research and find out and then Derek will have to come to me begging for help if he ever wants it breaking,” Stiles' grin widened with his eyes. 

“Are you feeling ok dude?”

“Did I mention I might have been hit with elf dust?” 

“There is no elf dust. They were just blowing dirt in our faces,”

“Oh,”

~

It takes a week before Stiles is back with the pack again. A week of fruitless research and increasingly irate text messages to Derek that all go unanswered. He shows up for pizza night two shots of vodka to the wind and pissed. Mostly because he hates the feeling of missing out on pack business despite the fact that he has seen all of them, bar Derek and mercifully Peter, in his week away from the group. His anger is stil focussed in one direction. When Scott mentions they're having their usual pizza night on Friday it's one step too far and he invites himself (along with the rest of the vodka).

He knocks at the door and sways on the spot. He hears a muffled sound and an 'oof' from the other side of the door then Erica asking 'what is it?'. Some shuffling sounds then a few seconds later she's opening the door, “Oh, it's you Stiles,” she said by way of a greeting before turning back and looking at Derek who was walking away rapidly rubbing at his nose and announcing loudly, “It's Stiles everyone!” before grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him into the apartment enthusiastically. Suddenly, not quite sure where they all came from, he's surrounded by the pack who are hugging him and patting his shoulder and any anger he was trying to hold onto is replaced by confusion.

“Yeah, it's Stiles,” he said weakly. When Jackson says with what appears to be a genuine smile, 

“It's good to see you buddy,” he really starts freaking out.

“Ok guys, what's going on?” 

He sees them glance between each other before Isaac offers, “Uh, it's pizza night,” and they all start drifting back towards wherever they must have sprung from (the couch and kitchen seemingly popular destinations). He would say Derek is the only one acting normally except he's still rubbing at his nose like he injured it somehow. Stiles catches Erica muttering,

“That'll teach you for suddenly deciding to be an eager host,” to him before she sits down on the arm of the couch next to Boyd. After such a warm welcome they've gone back to not paying him any attention and Stiles wonders exactly how badly the vodka is affecting him. 

“I brought vodka!” he says, holding the bottle in the air. Lydia, here now because Peter never turns up for pizza nights, snorted at him and went back to the lesson on hand weapons that Allison appeared to be giving her at the table. The mood in the whole apartment was subdued. “Ok guys seriously what's going on? Did Jackson order Hawaiian again? Just pick the pineapple off,”

“Pizza's not here yet,” Boyd volunteered, not turning around to look at him. He seemed to be choosing a movie to watch with Erica who was leaning in close, her hair brushing at his shoulder, to whisper with him. 

“Fine,” Stiles slumped down on the other end of the couch and set the bottle between his thighs. He slid his fingers over the cap for few seconds before he caught Derek looking at him. He glared, “No complaining about my drinking,” then his expression brightened, “And even if you do have a problem with it I'd like to see you take the bottle off me,”. And to make a point he wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle and swung it up to take a swig, getting a little in his mouth and a lot on his t-shirt. 

“Shit Stiles,” Scott groaned, appearing beside him and plucking the bottle from his hand. 

“Yeah, you have some buddy,” Stiles said, distracted by mopping at his face with his already wet shirt. It was a bad day to be wearing white as it had started to become see-through. Lydia and Allison started snickering over at the table for some reason he was immediately suspicious of but when he turned to ask them what was up a towel hit him in the face. He peeled it off slowly and glared towards where Derek had been - he was always suspect number one when things were flying towards his head. Derek was nowhere to be seen though so Stiles rubbed the towel against his neck and looked up at Scott who was still lingering by his shoulder, “You ok?”

“Are you?” Scott asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah buddy I'm great,” he raised his voice, “A whole week without threats of physical violence when I'm making legitimate, intelligent, witty comments,” 

“I must have missed those five seconds,” Jackson muttered. Lydia flicked his arm with a perfectly manicured nail. 

Stiles swung around, half-hanging off the couch, “Yes Jackson, yes you must have,” before blinking up at his friend, “Scott, where's my vodka?”

“Uh, gone. We drank it all,” 

Stiles snorted. The alarm went off. 

“Ooh, pizza!” Stiles swayed to his feet and started making his way over to the door. Derek appeared before him in an instant. He opened the door all tense and moody (Stiles could tell these things from the way Derek's back looked) and started talking to the pizza guy. Stiles continued on his progress and just reached the edge of the barrier in time to see Derek press a twenty into the delighted pizza guy's hand. Stiles blinked at this amazing turn of events but before he could turn around and ask Scott if he'd seen that Isaac was grabbing him by one arm and Allison by another and he was being led back over to the couch, “Hey guys did you just see—what's going on?” 

“Nothing. We want you to pick the movie Stiles,” Allison explained. Stiles shook his head and pulled out of their grasp so dramatically he spun on the spot. 

“No, it's pizza night,” he explained, before walking over to the kitchen where Derek was putting down the stack of boxes on the counter. He backed away when Stiles approached and allowed him to open the first box. Stiles blinked at the contents, “Holy shit this is Hawaiian!” 

Jackson barged into his shoulder and grabbed the box, “I like it dickwad,” he bitched before walking off with the offending pizza. Stiles snorted and nodded his head. He stared down at the pizza and chuckled at his perfect comeback. He had said it out loud right? He opened the next box and called out,

“Ok who ordered extra sausage?” 

Erica started snickering, falling forward onto Boyd's lap. Scott walked over to him, manfully trying to keep a straight face as he said, “That one's for you,” 

“Scott,” Stiles blinked, ignoring the fact that Jackson seemed to be convulsing on the floor and Allison and Lydia were leaning so close together they looked like they were kissing---no wait. He turned his head back to stare for a moment. They were definitely just laughing. He lost his train of thought for a moment and looked down at the pizza. Sausage. Scott knew he had very specific feelings about sausage vs pepperoni. He sighed, “Scott, you know I just pick the sausage off and give it to...” he clamped his mouth shut but his eyes flicked to Derek who was busy inspecting mugs like that was normal. When did he get a mug tree anyway? 

“Yeah well you can still do that,” Scott clapped him on the shoulder and slid the rest of the pizza boxes out from under the open one. He walked off with them leaving Stiles to stare down at his pizza and try and work everything out. With a huge, put upon sigh he turned to Derek and asked, 

“Do you want my sausage?” the room behind him erupted in laughter, “Oh, very funny guys, haha I hate you all!” he kept his eyes on Derek who had moved on to the cutlery draw. When did he get a cutlery draw? “Well your Highness, going to answer me?” 

Derek looked up and finally met his eye, “You said no talking,” he muttered. Stiles cast his mind back, searching for this alleged command. Finally he gaped at him.

“Well I didn't _mean_ it!”

Derek looked at him, cheeks flushed with what Stiles assumed was anger. He shook his head. 

“Jesus Derek since when do you listen to anything I say?”

“I listen to everything you say. That's why I keep telling you to shut up,” 

“Haha, eat your stupid sausage,” Stiles shoved the pizza down the counter to him. Derek only just caught it before it ended up on the floor. Without comment he started picking the bits of sausage off and putting them on a plate. Stiles watched his fingers as he worked, never taking too much cheese. 

“We're watching Iron Man 3!” Erica called, snapping Stiles' thoughts away from grease-covered digits.

“Ok!” Stiles shouted unnecessarily loudly. He gestured for Derek to leave first.

“Stiles, I can't,” Derek looked pointedly at the doorway. Stiles realised him and his barrier were blocking the entrance to the kitchen. He should have known the only reason he got an answer out of Derek was because he was inadvertently holding him hostage. He smiled slowly.

“Had a nice week without me? Trouble free I guess?” he started, leaning up against the counter. 

“Stiles...”

“I bet you were just snuggled up in your bed dreaming of little fluffy lambs,” 

“It was--”

“No, Scott told me about the fawn with the ice pick! And the merman at the bottom of the lake that tried to take your eyes out! Who do you think it was that worked out that red M&M would work just as well?” 

“I know you--”

“Might not have had to barter away your car if I was there right? If I was part of the pack?”

“Stiles you are part of the pack,” 

“That's not what--”

“Can you guys stop arguing it's ruining the movie!” Erica called. 

“No, this is more interesting!” Lydia disagreed. 

“Just because you let Peter worm his way inside your head--”

“Stiles, we did fight a merman this week and a fawn and the returning elven King,” Derek explained slowly, Stiles shut his mouth at that last one as that was a story he'd not heard, “And Scott got an ice pick through his side, Isaac nearly lost an ear, Allison sprained her wrist and you got to stay at home and do your homework,” 

“And maybe none of those things would have happened if I had been there!” Stiles snapped, not liking the implication that he had things easy. Or that the most exciting thing he could come up with to do by himself was homework. Derek rolled his eyes,

“Or you would have gotten hurt,”

“So?”

“So?” Derek's eyes almost bugged out of his head, “So?” 

“A needle pulling thread,” Boyd sang loudly as he walked into the kitchen with an empty plate. Derek and Stiles both blinked at him, “What? My sister loved that movie.” Boyd explained before exiting the kitchen again, eyes downcast. Stiles looked after him for a moment before turning back to Derek. 

“Let's go to Deaton and break this stupid spell.”

Derek shook his head, “Just go watch the movie Stiles,”

“You go watch the movie. I've already seen it and I guess we can't watch it together without one of us sitting somewhere uncomfortable,” 

“There's room,” Derek said, voice soft.

Stiles shook his head, “Nah, I think I'm gonna go... wasn't invited anyway was I?” 

Derek looked down at the sausage-less pizza in front of him a little helplessly. His fingers twitched. 

“I'll drive you back,” Isaac appeared, clapping an arm around Stiles' shoulder, “I've seen it too,” 

Stiles turned his head and looked up at him, giving him a wide smile, “Yeah, we saw it together. But you don't need to drive me man,”

“I think I do,” Isaac said, glancing quickly at Derek then back down at Stiles. Stiles frowned. 

“Fine,” he walked out of the kitchen without another word and raised his hand to the group huddled together on the couch, lit only by the light of the television, “See ya guys,”. A few goodbyes and shh's came his way and he sighed and walked over to where Isaac was waiting by the door for him, hand out. He glared and handed over his keys. As the door opened he spotted his bottle of vodka stashed behind a coat rack (seriously Derek when did you get all this stuff?) and snatched it up. Isaac glared at him but he shrugged, “I'm not driving,”

~

He came back early the next day with a monster hangover and a plan. With some help from Isaac he managed to arrive while Derek is sleeping.

“Isaac,” he hissed, frozen a few steps into the doorway, “You said he was asleep...”

“He is,” Isaac shrugged, shutting the door behind him. Stiles let out a little frustrated whimper. Derek was sitting in his armchair, the one he sat in while the rest of the pack crammed onto the couch, a book open on his knee and his head resting back against the cushions. He wasn't snoring but his mouth was open slightly and he looked soft and vulnerable. 

“Ok, I can't do this...” Stiles muttered, backing away. 

“Do what?” Erica asked, walking past him from the kitchen with a bowl of dry cereal she was picking at. She was wearing soft-looking multi-coloured pyjamas and her hair was tied up messily on top of her head. 

“Research,” he left his bag fall off his shoulder but caught it before it hit the floor. Erica swerved and walked back towards him. She jabbed a finger in his chest, leaning in close.

“What do you mean _research_?” 

“Uh..” Stiles leant back.

“Because I will break every bone in your body the moment you start bad-touching him,”

“Uh, I can't touch him, that's the problem-- not _problem_ , issue,” he corrected, “And I'm not gonna bother him, I just want to see, like, the limitations of this spell so I can work out how to break it...”

Erica stuffed an aggressive handful of cereal into her mouth, “Hmm, the moment I see a tape measure you're out of here Stilinski,” she said narrowing her eyes at him and glaring for a moment before walking over to sit on the couch. 

“Wow,” Stiles breathed. How did he suddenly become the bad guy? Derek was the one making this difficult. As soon as he agreed to break the no touching barrier Stiles could stop thinking about him constantly. He took another deep breath, “Ok,” he reached into his bag and after a moment of searching pulled out a notebook, pen and piece of chalk. Under the watchful eye of Erica he edged closer to Derek. He observed the gentle rise and fall of his chest for a moment before he made it to the edge of the barrier.

“Stiles...” Erica warned. Stiles put up an appeasing hand before bowing down and starting to draw. He moved around Derek, drawing a circle on the floor. Derek chose the perfect moment to wake up with Stiles' ass in his face. He jumped up and the barrier shifted and Stiles found himself face-planting on the coffee table. He bit his tongue and blood flooded his mouth. 

He turned over on the table with a groan and looked up into Derek's angry face. 

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“We tried to stop him,” Erica said from her position on the couch, feet curled up under herself and a magazine open across her knees. Derek raised his eyebrows at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. Stiles swallowed the blood in his mouth and rolled off the table before getting up,

“Oh I don't know, trying to _fix this_ ,” he pointed down at the circle, “see now we know the barrier is a perfect circle which could be, y'know, useful but fine, you want me to give up? I'll give up!” he was almost positive he was being truthful this time. Derek's jaw was tight as he glared at him then jerked his head towards the door, 

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Stiles opened and shut his mouth a few times, too angry to speak, before he managed to snap out, “Fine,”. He stormed over to his bag, kicking it over in his haste to get out. A tape measure skittered out across the floor. He grabbed for it and shoved it into his pocket, looking up to meet the judgemental eyes of Erica, “It was to measure the circle!” he snapped before storming over to the door. He'd almost gotten it open when Derek said,

“Stiles,” 

“What?” he snapped.

Derek was business-like when he informed the floor that it could, “Still come around for pizza nights,” if it wanted, “I can be elsewhere,”

Stiles' heartstrings gave a traitorous tug so he worked extra hard on his glare when he responded, “Well as you reminded me I have plenty of homework to do so lets just leave things as they are hm?” He didn't storm out, he walked calmly, but he felt the anger pulling at him that Derek continued to be the biggest distracting annoyance in his life.

~

Stiles clutched at his knees, doubled over with laughter.

“Stiles!” Derek's voice echoed up at him, all the more hilarious for being so angry. 

He was stuck. Down a manhole. Derek was in a manhole. They had just been walking and he'd fallen in. Like, whoosh, hey where did Derek go? The popsicle that Stiles had been enjoying was on the floor forgotten now. His laughter had given way to wheezing as he tried to suck in air to stop himself from passing out. Every so often he heard splashing below and it would set him off again. 

“Stiles!” Derek yelled up again, “Get me out of here!”

“Oh no buddy,” Stiles gasped, wiping the tears from his eyes, “you are on your own. Can't touch you remember?” a fact he was more than usually glad of now seeing as Derek was covered in sewer which smelled terrible to his human nose so he had no idea how it was for Derek. Although dogs did like garbage so maybe he was having a party down there.

“STILES!”

Maybe not. 

“Oh, uh, ok... hang on...” Stiles tried to sober himself up a little bit and looked around, “Isn't there like a ladder down there or something?” 

“No,” Derek said it with such annoyance that Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing again. 

“Well can't you just y'know, jump out?”

“No. It's too narrow. Not accurate enough,” he explained, voice clipped. 

He saw a broom leaning up against a nearby Italian restaurant. The brush part was all bent out of place but the handle looked good. He brought it over to the hole and...well... poked it in. 

“Grab onto that,” he wiggled it around into the darkness.

“Can't,” 

“Come on, don't sulk,” 

“Stiles. You're. Too. Close,” Derek gritted out.

“Oh,” Stiles pulled back the broom. He looked around again. Tied to a high fence post looked like a washing line. He walked over and untied the end he could see. A thud on the other side of the fence told him it had been holding up some washing. He sighed and hoisted himself up. When he was on top of the fence Derek's voice echoed out of the manhole.

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“Saving your ass as usual,” Stiles muttered, sure that Derek could probably hear him anyway. He half-fell down into the garden and took in the washing on the floor. Why did it have to be whites day? Crouching low doing his best super spy impression he rushed across the lawn to where the other end of the washing line was tied to a tree. By the time he'd untied it, removed the washing and left it in a semi-neat pile, and climbed back over the fence again, he was sporting several cuts and bruises for his troubles and a severe case of guilt. But nothing could bring down his mood. Due to the fact Derek was stuck down a manhole. 

He hasn't even intended to see him. He had been trying to push his curiosity and irritation aside and carry on with his life, relying on the fact that Derek would no doubt get into some kind of trouble and have to beg for his help. And he intended on making him beg. He hadn't expected it to happen quite like this though. He had just been walking down the street minding his own business sucking on his popsicle and smiling at some guy who was staring at the popsicle like a drowning man and Derek had appeared at his side. But before they could even trade any really good insults he was suddenly gone. Down the manhole. If anyone else had seen they weren't exactly rushing to help. They had the advantage of not being in Derek's pack though, so they could enjoy their laughter rather than being forced to climb things. 

He knotted one end of the washing line to a nearby lamppost and tossed the rest down the hole. It tensed for a moment then slowly Derek started emerging like a creature from a swamp, covered in dirt from head-to-toe and in a foul mood. He pulled himself up onto the pavement and dripped mud everywhere. 

“So uh...You're a graceful supernatural being right?” Derek turned and glared at him from the ground, daring him to continue, so of course Stiles did, “How did you fall down a manhole? I've never fallen down a manhole and I'm...well... me.” 

Derek pulled himself up to his feet, swaying a little. A Derek-shaped outline in filth was imprinted on the dry road, “It was open,”

“Yeah but... it was a big freaking hole in the ground!” his lips were threatening to break out into a grin again so he tried for some sincerity, “Seriously though dude, are you ok?” 

Derek's eyes narrowed a him. “You better hope I'm not the only one around next time you're in danger,” he grumbled, stalking off. The squelching of his shoes started Stiles laughing again.

~

“Stiles, stay away from him or I won't be able to help you!” Derek growled.

“I'm. Trying,” Stiles gasped as he sprinted across the lacrosse field. At his heels the mutant pig-like creature with a jaw full of teeth snapped and churned up the earth with its huge trotters. 

Derek had started by running behind them but Stiles had never been able to break more than five feet away from the creature and eventually he'd given up and started to try and distract the pig instead. It hadn't worked, possibly because as soon as he'd seen the pig Stiles had made some sausage joke that he was mostly regretting now. He blamed Scott. 

He ran in a circle around Derek, as close as he could go, and chanted breathlessly, “Get it get it get it get it,” 

“Still too close Stiles,” Derek growled. He was already shifted and his body crouched ready to pounce but with Stiles so close he could do nothing. 

“I. Have. A. Plan,” Stiles panted before changing course, wobbling slightly as ran towards the bleachers. The pig gave a blood curdling squeal and started after him. His sneakers squeaked on the painted wood as he scrambled up and the pig followed, even his trotters not slowing him down as he climbed. “Derek, quick!” Stiles called as he reached the top of the bleachers and had nowhere else to go. 

Derek realised too late what Stiles was about to do and only managed the words, “Stiles, don't!” before Stiles had scaled the back of the bleachers and dropped out of sight. He registered a muffled thud as he sprinted up the bleachers and grabbed the pig that had been left temporarily bewildered by Stiles antics. He snapped its thick neck quickly and stumbled over the body to look down over the edge of the bleachers. A crumpled body lay unmoving in the shadows on the grass. His heart pounded in his chest.

~

Derek slammed the door behind them as he followed Stiles into his apartment. Erica and Lydia looked up from where they had been snuggled together on the couch,

“You broke your arm!” Derek ranted. 

“It's only fractured,” Stiles dismissed, dropping his bag and adjusting the sling around his right arm. 

“That means broken dumbass. You are not a Werewolf, you cannot just jump off things like that!”

“As if you'd know what I can do, you've never been human. That thing needed to be stopped before someone got hurt,” 

“You got hurt!”

“Yeah, well so what? You guys heal in seconds so you're making too big a deal out of this, I'm fine,” 

“I had to wait for twenty minutes with you lying there before Scott arrived to take you to the hospital!” 

“You killed the pig didn't you?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Allison step out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, mouthing 'pig?' to the two girls on the couch. When had those three become so friendly? He watched them all settle on the couch together for a moment, temporarily distracted. 

“Stiles, that is not the point!” 

“Hey,” Stiles turned back to Derek, “If we had broken this spell two weeks ago like I asked then we wouldn't even be having this discussion, this is your fault!”

“I know,” Derek admitted, body sagging. Stiles convulsed with rage and gave out an unintelligible cry. He advanced on Derek who actually looked a little afraid as he backed up. 

“Stop doing that! Stop acting like every bad things that happens is your responsibility!” he knew he was contradicting himself but he had only meant that the fact that the spell was still over them was Derek's fault, not everything bad ever, which was how Derek seemed to take what he said. 

“Stiles I--”

“No! I'm going to Deaton now. I'm going to break this spell. Then I'm going to come back here and punch you in the face for being such an idiot!” 

“Don't,” Derek clenched his fists, “if you break that spell I'm going to rip--”

“Good,” Stiles cut him off, “I look forward to it!” Stiles snapped before storming out. 

“Did Stiles used to storm out so much before this spell thingie happened?” Lydia asked, popping a kernel into her mouth. 

“It is pretty unsatisfying,” Isaac agreed from the floor in front of the couch where he'd been hiding. 

“Touch starved,” Erica agreed. 

Derek glared at them all and started stomping up the spiral staircase to his bedroom - which in practice was a laborious and (judging by the laughter of his pack) hilarious endeavour.

~

Stiles stormed into the veterinary surgery, past a man with a pomeranian who looked rather offended, and shut the door behind him. He levered himself one-handed up onto the examination table and looked at Deaton who hadn't even blinked at his entrance.

“You see doc, I have this situation,” he started, “Me and Derek--”

Deaton sighed and interrupted him, raising a hand, “I'm aware of the situation Stiles and as I told Derek two weeks ago I am working on it--”

“--Two weeks?!” Stiles squeaked.

“--and if we don't know who cast the spell that is as much as I can give you.” 

Stiles gulped in air for a moment. Derek had come to Deaton as soon as it had happened? When he'd said that he wanted to keep the spell in tact? That bastard. Did he want to get his hands on Stiles that badly?

“Well, uh, how long do you think it will take?” he recovered. 

“As long as it takes,” Deaton said slowly, like Stiles was already trying his patience, “but as you're here I will takes some samples from you to see if we can speed along the process, roll up your sleeve,”

Deaton turned away, leaving Stiles to struggle with rolling up his sleeve one handed. He ended up grabbing the cuff with his teeth and yanking it backwards, imprinting it with teeth and saliva and jerking his head around like a dog with a tasty bone. Deaton raised his brows at him when he turned around again then without preamble stuck a needle into his forearm and drew out a half a syringe of blood. 

“Fuck,” Stiles breathed, then added a half-hearted, “Sorry,” eyes watching as Deaton pressed a cotton swab to his arm as he pulled the needle out. Deaton taped the cotton down before going to his work bench and setting about doing something with his blood. “So...” Stiles began after a few moments of silence, “Do you need samples from Derek as well or..?”

“Derek has already given me samples,” Deaton explained, turning and shoving a Q-tip into Stiles' mouth and swabbing around his cheek. 

“Great,” Stiles said, chewing on the Q-tip a little, “Sorry.” Deaton took it out and put it in a tube. Stiles watched as Deaton wrote down some notes. “So you can't tell me anything about this at all?”

Deaton sighed and turned to look at him, “It seems like a standard protection or repulsion spell, both are rather similar. It's surprisingly strong. Usually they fade after a few days and have to keep being renewed by the caster to remain effective. What happened to your arm?” he asked as if he'd only just noticed.

“Mutant pig,” Stiles explained. Deaton nodded.

“Most spells like this are general, they keep everyone away, it's unusual for them to be focussed on just one person. Though not unheard of,” 

“So is it going to be harder to break then?”

“Just different,” 

“Great,” 

Stiles looked down at his feet dangling from the table. For some reason he'd envisioned Deaton fixing this straight away so that he could carry out on his threat. Now the anger was dissipating and being replaced with worry since he'd heard that Deaton had already been working on the problem for two weeks without any breakthroughs. Not that it was such a big problem though anyway. He could punch Derek any time.

~

“Are you sure Derek wants me here?” Stiles asked for a third time as Scott pulled up in front of the apartment block. He was driving Stiles' Jeep and that made Stiles' a little antsy but there was no getting around it with a broken arm.

“Yes,” Scott sighed, “I think he realises that whether you're near him or not trouble is going to find you,”

“Hey, that pig was after you dude! It's not my fault you were late and I happened to look delicious!” 

“I thought it attacked you because you made a comment about giving Derek some sausage,”

“WHAT?”

“That's how Erica told it,” Scott shrugged, “Anyway, you need help getting out?”

Scott jumped down and walked around to open the door for Stiles who glared at him before falling to the ground ungracefully. The jolt vibrated through his shoulder and arm and made him gasp and wince painfully. Derek appeared in front of them and Scott held up his hands quickly,

“I didn't...” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the two of them as he tightened his sling. They seemed to be having some epic Werewolf non-verbal conversation so after a moment Stiles slammed his door. They both looked at him. “You didn't have to meet me on the street,” Stiles muttered, eyeing Derek from the safety of his invisible prison.

“Deaton phoned,” he explained. 

“What did he say?” Stiles gasped, sounding a little too eager even to his own ears. 

“He needs our help with something,”

~

Scott jumped out of the Jeep in the vet's parking lot and was grabbed immediately by Derek. They had a hushed conversation that Stiles couldn't hear any of. He struggled with his seat-belt and opened his car door, hurrying to try and catch what they were saying. As soon as they heard the noise Derek and Scott stopped talking and looked over at him. Derek shoved Scott in the back and Scott trotted over quickly to help Stiles out of the Jeep. Stiles allowed himself to be manhandled by the elbow before he shook Scott off.

“What were you two saying?” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth, knowing there was no way Derek couldn't hear them.

“What? Nothing, let's get inside,” Scott said, shutting the Jeep door and walking quickly towards the entrance. Stiles and Derek walked together, obvious distance aside, and struggled with equal parts manners and stubbornness to decide which of them would go through the door first. Stiles finally won and so he was first through to Deaton's office to see him and Scott standing over a book. Stiles leaned in closer and Derek slipped into the room behind him. 

“You...why do you have a copy of our yearbook?”

Deaton turned over one of the glossy pages to show pictures of the school band from last year. 

“I have determined that the spell was cast by someone at your school. Makes sense of course it had to be a teenager,” Deaton muttered, “his face appeared to me when I did an origin spell but I did not recognise it so I needed a copy of your yearbook to—ah.” He looked down at the honor roll page he'd just turned to. Stiles and Scott crowded in while Derek was stuck trying to crane around them from a distance. 

“Greenberg?!” Stiles and Scott said together.

“I believe he is the one that I saw, yes,” Deaton nodded, tapping his finger against Greenberg's picture. 

“But.. what is he doing casting spells?” Stiles wondered, stepping backwards and forcing Derek to squeeze around in the confined space until he was standing by Scott and Deaton. He picked the yearbook up and studied the picture intently. 

“That I believe you will have to ask him,” Deaton explained, looking from Derek to Stiles, “Once we have the details of the spell we should be able to break it,”

“I'll ask him,” Derek said quickly. 

“Uh, no, you'll scare him to death, I'll ask him. Greenberg likes me,”

Derek's eyes narrowed and he repeated, “I'll ask him,” 

“What? And give him a heart attack before he can break it? This kid isn't dangerous. No Derek, this needs finesse-ing...” he smoothed his unbound hand out in front of him in the air. 

Derek snorted. 

Stiles glared and without taking his eyes off Derek said, “Scott, snatch that yearbook back for me,”

Scott obliged. Stiles pointed a finger at his chest, “ _I'll_ find Greenberg,” 

“Fine,” Derek grunted. He turned and hurried out of the room's second exit. Stiles blinked at his retreating figure, 

“Well... that was strange,”

~

“Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?” Scott asked as he helped Stiles out of the Jeep again, this time in the school parking lot.

“Nah, I can do this Scott. It's only Greenberg,” 

“He cast a pretty powerful spell over you dude... maybe he has hidden talents... maybe he'll make you a frog or something?”

“A frog? Really Scott?” Stiles shook his head in disappointment at his friend's lack of creativity.

“Yeah,” Scott gave him an easy grin, “And if the other spell still stands you won't be able to be kissed back to being human,”

Stiles frowned, “Well surely someone would--” 

Scott's face took on a little panicked look, “Uh, I just remembered, I have to go meet up with.... Boyd... like right now,” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was so not good at being stealthy, “Come on Scott, if you're meeting up with Isaac just say so, I can take it,” 

“Uh, sure...” Scott glanced about, “You gonna be ok here?” 

“Frog spells aside I think I'm good,” 

Scott nodded quickly and jumped back into the Jeep. As he tore out of the parking lot Stiles called after him, “Hey be gentle with my baby!” he sighed and walked towards the school.

~

Greenberg was easy enough to find. He was in Coach's office polishing a collection of trophies he'd taken from the cabinet.

“I'm not sure if I hope you're doing this as a punishment or not...” Stiles started, making Greenberg jump and drop his polishing cloth, “Because it's a pretty sadistic punishment outside of Hogwarts but then if you're doing this on your own time...” Stiles got distracted by the nearest trophy. It was of a little basketball playing man and had the name 'Peter Hale - Captain' underneath. He inspected it for a second then dropped it accidentally on the floor, hoping for a dent in the little guy's face. 

“Hey!” Greenberg protested, his frozen state broken as he hurried to pick up the trophy. 

“Oh sorry,” Stiles stepped back and watched as Greenberg polished off Peter Hale (and fought off the wave of nausea that that image provided) before speaking, “Greenberg... Greenberg, Greenberg, Greenberg...”

“What?” Greenberg asked him suspiciously. 

“Do any good spells recently?” Stiles asked. He'd thought about beating around the bush but that wasn't really his style. 

“What?” Greenberg asked again, this time in more of a squeak. He dropped the Peter Hale trophy and with some satisfaction Stiles heard a clinking broken sound, “Haha very funny Stiles,” Greenberg said in weak recovery, “I know it's kinda nerdy polishing trophies for Coach without him asking but--”

“I was being serious,” Stiles butted in, “Wait, you do this without him asking? Greenberg,” Stiles shook his head in disappointment.

“Well when I called his house this one time--”

“Stop,” Stiles held up his hand, “Don't want to know. Ever. Just tell me about the barrier spell.”

“The what?”

“Or distance spell or bubble boy spell or whatever it's called...” Stiles waved his arm around, “You cast it, I want to know about it?”

“But... what?” Greenberg had gone pale, “How did you...? That didn't work.” 

“Uh, yeah it did!” Stiles gestured to himself. Greenberg looked him over, puzzled.

“It worked on you?” 

“Wasn't it supposed to? Or did you cast it on Derek?”

“Who?”

“Big glowering guy who hangs around in the parking lot? I guess not...” Stiles frowned. 

“My spell worked? Magic works?”

“Oh God...” Stiles sighed, “Yes.”

“This is...oh my God!” Greenberg leapt up excitedly. 

“Yeah, it's great, what was the spell supposed to do?”

Greenberg looked down at his hands, he was hopping up and down on his feet and gesturing animatedly like his body could not contain his joy, “I knew it! I knew it! I did it!”

“Greenberg, what does the spell do?”

Greenberg stopped hopping and seemed to remember that Stiles was there, he swallowed and grinned at him excitedly, “It separates you from the person you love,”

“I...WHAT?”

No. Nope. No way. 

“It keeps you away from them. Like, physically. I only started off small, like five feet, because I didn't want it to be too powerful, but yeah... that's what it does... and it's working?” he looked up at Stiles hopefully. 

Stiles' mouth had gone dry. He leant up against the desk and stared at the little broken hands of Peter Hale on the floor. “Love? Really? Are you sure it wasn't just lust or even like vague appreciation? Toleration?”

“No, I was very specific. You have to be careful with spells like this,” Greenberg said seriously.

“Except for the part where you cast it on a random person. Like say me?!” Stiles yelled. 

Greenberg flushed, “I didn't think it had worked. And even if it had I thought it would only work on me – that it was only tailored to me,” his eyes lit up, “Unless the person you're talking about is--”

“No,” Stiles said firmly. Greenberg looked a little crestfallen then continued, 

“Well then... that's good,”

“No it is not good!” Stiles ranted, “Not good at all! What were you thinking? Casting spells on innocent people and forcing them to...” Stiles blinked. No wonder Derek had made a hasty retreat. He'd suspected this all along and found the whole idea too horrifying to want to stick around for. Stiles felt a flush moving from his chest, up his neck and to his face, “Oh God...” he whined, “I'm in love with Derek Hale,” 

And Derek Hale didn't love him back. 

“That serial killer guy?” Greenberg asked. 

“He's not a—No judging from the incompetent magician please. Who were you casting your spell for?”

“Uh, no-one...” Greenberg scratched at the back of his neck, glancing around the room.

“Oh please don't tell me...” Stiles said, eyes widening, “No...”

Greenberg kept his ashamed gaze on the ground. Stiles shook his head, he wasn't sure which of them was worse off. Greenberg's expression lightened a little,

“But now I know that the spell works I can cast it on myself for real this time,”

“Yeah, have fun with that. I want it off me,”

“You do?” Greenberg asked uncertainly.

Stiles was pretty sure there was no backing out now despite the fact that an impenetrable barrier between him and Derek sounded like a pretty good idea with this sudden revelation. He hesitated for a moment then confirmed, “Yes,”

“Well I don't really know how...” Greenberg admitted. Stiles sighed.

“Have you got a list of the ingredients you used or a copy of the spell? I have someone who might be able to figure it out,” 

“Oh, uh, sure,” Greenberg turned and started looking through his bag. He pulled out a notebook and tore a page out of it before handing it over to Stiles, “This is everything,” 

Stiles looked down at the page. This was the sort of thing Deaton had been looking for. He folded it in half one-handed and shoved it into his pocket. 

“How did you just... I don't know, throw it away and have it end up on me anyway?”

“I tossed it into the woods,”

“Tossed it into the woods,” Stiles deadpanned, “Tossed it into the woods,”

“Yeah, I mean I figured it was just dust so it would blow away...”

“Dust! I told Scott I got hit with elf dust!”

“Elves?”

“Not important.”

“Whose gonna look at that for you anyway..?” Greenberg leaned forward curiously. 

“None of your business. Stop doing magic,” Stiles ordered severely. 

“But no-one got hurt,” Greenberg whined.

“Not. Yet.” Stiles tried his best Derek Hale impersonation. Greenberg did not look intimidated. He probably overdid the eyebrows. Stiles sighed, “Fine, find me in school on Monday and we'll sort something out,”

“Thanks,” Greenberg grinned. Stiles shook head and and turned out of the office, panicked thoughts sprouting in his brain. As an afterthought he poked his head back around the door and said, 

“Oh and uh, good luck with that Coach thing,” before disappearing.

~

Deaton picked out some of the strangely labelled bottles from his store and started mixing their contents together. Stiles hovered at his side.

“All done,”

“What? That was it?” Stiles had only been there three minutes. And two of those had been taken up breaking the news to Deaton that he was going to be getting his own Sorcerer’s Apprentice and trying to come up with reasons why that was a good thing. 

“Yes. Once I knew the root of the spell everything else was quite simple. Oh...” he walked over to the mini-fridge that held samples and pulled out two vials of blood. He walked over and tipped them into the mixture. It flared bright purple for a second and let off a smell like burning rubber before settling down again. 

“Was that our blood?”

“It's best to mix it with a little bit of yourselves first or the initial effect can be quite potent,” he tipped the bowl up and separated the mixture out into two bottles. He handed them to Stiles, “You and Derek need to take one of these each. You should be in the same room as each other and immediately after taking them you should be able to, uh, stand close to each other again. But you _cannot_ touch each other for at least an hour after taking this,” Deaton fixed him with a severe look. 

“Believe me, not gonna be a problem,” Stiles said, pocketing the bottles.

~

“Oh hi Derek,” Stiles muttered to himself as he walked up the stairs to Derek's apartment, “Just here to give you that anti-anti-love potion. Anti-anti-love potion? Oh because I'm apparently in love with you and everything you are...” he stopped one floor down and caught his breath. He was sweating but it wasn't from the exertion of climbing. He couldn't deny it. He wanted to, wanted to with every fibre of his being because that would make things so much easier. But he couldn't. Stupid Derek Hale and his stupid self-sacrificing bitchy brand of constant failure was apparently what turned Stiles on. That and his face and stubble and abs. And ass. And all those beautiful arguments.

And now Derek was going to know and either punch him in the face or laugh him out of the pack. At least he'd get to see what Derek looked like when he was happy, Stiles thought glumly. He had a sneaking feeling he had a pretty nice smile. 

Why did he hate himself? Why was his type unattainable pretty people? Greenberg was probably nice if you got to know him and he would jump at the chance to date Stiles... why couldn't he be into him? 

Stiles looked up as he reached Derek's door and sighed. The sooner this was over with the better. He knocked then stepped backwards to allow Derek to get to the lock. His heart was pounding his neck so hard it felt like it was trying to choke him. The door opened and he barely caught a glance of Derek's face before he was disappearing back into the apartment. Stiles sighed and followed him in. _Derek knows everything_ , he thought, and he was so disgusted by the idea he didn't even put it forward as a theory. _Drink the potion and get out_ had to be his plan. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked as he walked inside. He couldn't pretend he wasn't relieved that no-one else was about to witness this but it was pretty strange these days to find the apartment completely empty.

“Movies,” Derek grunted, not meeting his eye.

“Even Peter?”

That drew a small smile from Derek, “Even Peter,”

“Well, rather them than me,” Stiles cleared his throat and walked over to the table. He pulled the two bottles out of his pocket, “Deaton made these up, he said as soon as we drank them things should be back to normal,”

He waited for Derek to ask him about the spell. Tensed, ready for the awkward questions. But none came. Derek stepped in close and when Stiles moved aside he picked up a bottle and looked down at it.

“We don't have to break it, if you prefer...” he started, turning the bottle over in his fingers. 

“I think it'd be better if we could touch, don't you?” Derek looked at him quickly so Stiles hastened to add, “For uh, life saving purposes etc.,” 

“Yeah,” Derek said then in one quick motion brought the bottle to his lips.

“Woah, you really don't mess around huh,” Stiles looked down at his bottle, “I know it's a little bit old school what with potions and whatever..” he mumbled, not able to look Derek in his stupid attractive face, “But Deaton says once we've drank it things should go back to normal,” except I will be hiding in my room from embarrassment for at least a week he added silently. He raised the potion to his lips and drank then glanced across at Derek to make sure he had done the same so he could leave and put an end to this awkward situation. He attributed the sickness swirling in his stomach to the taste of the potion and not the fact that Derek seemed to want to get this over with as quickly as possible. Derek drank and dropped the bottle to the ground where it bounced a couple of times before rolling up against his foot. He looked at Stiles.

Stiles wanted to look away, he really did, he knew he had to get out of there before he started explaining things and feelings and ruining everything forever. But Derek was looking at him. Not glaring or rolling his eyes or giving him a death stare. His eyes were intense and searching. Stiles broke. He opened his mouth to speak. And suddenly found Derek right inside his personal space, so close he could smell the leather of his jacket. “Der--?” he started and then Derek's lips were on his and his arms were pulling Stiles against him and Stiles' hands were scrunching at his leather jacket just _holding on_ while a confused muffled sound was coming out of his mouth. He forgot to breath for a moment, frozen against Derek's lips, and his lack of response made Derek start to pull away. The movement woke Stiles and he let out a little whine before pressing a quick awkward open kiss to Derek's mouth, followed by another and another, each time improving on the last until their lips were slotting together in perfect teasing kisses and Derek's hands were warming the inside of his shirt. He felt Derek's lips curving into a smile and he tried to pull back to see it. There was a bang, a whoosh of air and everything went black.

~

Stiles opened his eyes slowly. Light flickered across his vision queasily and a droning sound was fading in and out of his ears. He coughed dryly and looked around. Everything looked wrong. He felt like he was lying down on hard ground but the room was the wrong way up. The floor was still below his feet and the couch was still the right way up and... was he pinned against the wall?

“Derek?” he coughed suspiciously. 

“Stiles!” 

He looked around for the voice, eyes glancing over the strange discoloured spot on the opposite wall before coming back to that point and realising it was Derek standing up against the brickwork with his hands up like Stiles was pointing a cork pistol at him. Strange phallic imagery. Best not to analyse the fakeness of his imaginary gun. He licked his lips. They had been kissing. 

“Derek!” Stiles shouted, eyes going wide as he remembered, “You kissed me!” 

“Stiles, are you ok?” Derek called across to him. Stiles tried to move but he was well and truly pinned up against the wall. His feet were even a couple of inches off the floor. 

“Yeah I think so... what's happening?”

“I don't know,” Derek strained. He didn't look like he was moving but his voice said he was using all his Werewolf-powers to try and fight against the invisible barrier. Barrier.

“Oh,” Stiles said quietly.

“What?” 

“Well... uh... Deaton did say not to touch for at least an hour after taking the potion. I didn't tell you because I didn't think there was much chance of that happening... I didn't anticipate kissing...” he licked his lips again, trying to remember the feeling before a wall to the head rendered him unconscious. 

Derek sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing back against the wall, “I'm sorry...” he said quietly.

“What? Why?”

“I shouldn't have... I know you don't feel the same way. Deaton probably didn't tell you that the spell was...” he swallowed, “It was a spell meant to keep you away from the person you're attracted to... And I thought it might be better to keep it going to remind me that I shouldn't... but then it was even worse when I couldn't even--and then when I _could_ I...” his voice trailed off sadly. 

Stiles blinked. A lot. And not just because he had brick dust in his eyes, “You think the spell was cast on _you_?”

Derek opened his eyes and looked at him. Stiles laughed. 

“I thought it was cast on me!” 

“You?” 

“Yeah... oh man this is great!” Stiles felt himself unable to stop grinning, which was quite a feat considering his broken arm was being pinned painfully across his chest. Derek was giving him a lost look that made his heart ache a little so he continued with the same enthusiasm, “We like each other!” 

“You never... I thought you liked Lydia,” Derek said quietly, “Or Erica,” 

“Lydia is beautiful and terrifying and for some reason completely in love with a jackass. When you start coming up with a ten year plan to woo someone you already know it's probably never gonna happen... Then again I hadn't even planned to plan a plan to get you and look how that worked out! Erica? Well I guess I could see how you would think that as I do seem to be attracted to people who like to threaten me with bodily harm...” Derek looked down, ashamed, and Stiles groaned, “Oh shit, you know you can't ask me to talk about serious stuff when I can't offer you my body as an apology for whatever comes out of my mouth...”

“No, you're right, I do threaten you a lot,”

“And apparently I find it adorable! So uh... don't go changing?” he started humming the tune but Derek didn't seem to be in a mood for his humour and it was making him feel a little sick again so he stopped abruptly and asked, “Is anyone likely to come by and find us any time soon?” 

“With my luck, no,” Derek sighed. Stiles felt a wave of protectiveness building up inside him. He didn't like Derek looking that that dejected, like he just accepted that bad things were always going to happen to him. He never had. The reason why was clearer now. He wanted to reach across and touch him, wanted to reassure him, wanted him to at least meet his eye and see that he didn't blame him for this, that wall-stapling and painful bump on the head aside he was actually excited. 

“Well this pretty much sucks, I have my first kiss and then literally get frozen in sexual frustration,” 

“That was your first kiss?” Derek looked mildly worried.

“Uh... no?” Stiles lied. He was pretty sure kissing Heather when they got married aged five didn't count. Derek raised his eyes finally and they lit up with a soft smile and Stiles felt his heart pound in his chest and damn... “Ok technically yes. But I'm a fast learner,” 

“It's ok Stiles,” 

“No but... I have a great imagination too. Like there are thousands of things I want to do--”

“Like stop talking?”

“You would think so but no....talking is pretty much all we can do right now huh? No, wait, do you remember that movie _40 Days and 40 Nights_?”

“No,”

“Of course you do. I could like blow rose petals all over your body,” he frowned, “Of course I'd probably have to use an industrial sized fan from this distance,” 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek gritted through his teeth, “Can we talk about this later, when we're not pinned up against walls?”

“Yeah. Oh!” Stiles' eyes widened, “Shit, oh shit, the walls are the only things keeping us in the same room right now, what if the new spell has us not being able to be within a mile of each other this time? Shit shit shit this might be the last time I see you in person... People do Skype sex right? That's a thing? We need to get you a WiFi connection,” 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek forced out. Stiles blinked at him. 

“What?”

“Can we just talk about something less... while we're being pushed back into a wall..?”

“Why?” Stiles looked at Derek's strained face then down his body to the hard line of his... everything was being pushed back against the wall. “Oh God, that must hurt! I did that? With rose petals? Really? Is it painful? Oh shit Derek did I break your dick?” 

“It's. Fine.”

“I am going to kill Greenberg,”

~

Stiles lost count of the amount of time they were stuck up on the wall before Scott walked into the apartment.

“Scott! Scott! I made everything worse,” Stiles moaned.

“Why does it smell like boner in here?” Scott asked, walking around the corner to look at Stiles. 

“Now _you're_ making everything worse!” Stiles yelled in panic, "Wait, that has a smell?"

“Oh God you guys didn't did you?” Scott asked, nose wrinkling. 

“Like this?!” Stiles snapped, slapping his hands back against the wall, “Yeah it was real sexy!” 

Scott stepped back and finally noticed that Stiles was hanging off the wall. He reached out and tried to pull him down but only succeeded in ripping his shirt. 

“Oh gee thanks Scott, you couldn't have tried that with Derek?” 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Call Deaton,” 

Scott nodded and got out his phone quickly. He stepped away to make the call and Stiles looked over to where Derek was staring at him. Or at his chest. Where one nipple was now bare for the whole world to see. Stiles coughed, “Yes, ok, I have chest hair,” he felt himself blushing. The added heat to his face and the blood running around his system made him unable to warn anyone before he vomited all over his famed chest hair and passed out again.

~

He came to in the hospital with Derek sitting at the end of his bed.

“What happened?” he croaked. Derek picked up an ice chip from a cup and put it against his lips. He opened his mouth and tasted the warmth of Derek's fingers for a moment before he snatched them back.

“You have a concussion,” 

“So you could say... your kiss literally broke my brain,” Stiles grinned crookedly. 

Derek did not find that funny at all. 

“Where is everyone?”

“Your dad threatened them out,”

“But you snuck back in,” Stiles guessed. Derek looked down and shrugged, “I'm guessing you're not here to play doctor?”

“Stiles,” Derek warned. 

“Oh no, the spell is broken, everyone is ok...”

“Except for you,” 

“I know this may re-enforce your argument but listen--”

“Stiles, get some sleep,”

“But Derek you have to have the good things in life... the good things and the bad things... like with the burger and the tomato... or music and Robin Thicke... or... the pimento in the olive... or olives at all really...” Derek put a hand on his shoulder and his veins started rippling black, “What are you doing?”

“Sleep,” 

“I don't want...” Stiles felt pounding in his head lessen and the full weight of tiredness start falling over him, his eyes not wanting to stay open which was stupid because Derek was there and he was a feast for any eyes no tomatoes at all... Stiles drifted off to sleep. 

Even when he'd finished drawing the pain out of Stiles Derek kept his hand on his shoulder, quietly rubbing his thumb against the skin of Stiles' neck.

~

Stiles was let out of hospital the next day but his dad took a whole week off to watch him (and try and extract from him the truth about how he got hurt, for some reason he wasn't believing Scott's horseback riding related lie despite the fact that Scott had gone to the trouble of naming the fictional horse Dick Grayson). So he wasn't able to see anyone besides Scott until his dad released him from the prison of his room.

Scott gave him a ride straight to Derek's where the whole pack (mercifully sans Peter again) was gathering for another movie night. It was a testament to how quiet things were, relatively speaking, that they were managing to watch so many movies at the moment. 

When he walked through the door Lydia was the first to hug him (which he appreciated) and pinch his cheek (which he didn't), followed by Erica and Isaac. Boyd patted him gently on the shoulder and Jackson nodded. Stiles chose to believe it was because he was completely choked up. Allison wrapped her hands around his good arm and led him over to the couch where Derek was sitting, apparently engrossed in a decision over _Hellboy 2_ and _Spiderman 3_. She pushed Stiles down into the seat next to Derek and everyone made a rather hasty retreat. 

“Hey,” Stiles said quietly.

“Hey,” Derek echoed. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the whirring of the microwave in the kitchen where the guys seemed to be making popcorn. Stiles swallowed and decided to get right to it. 

“So uh...” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, “I know the last time we kissed we kinda almost blew up your apartment and possibly almost died but... I wouldn't mind doing that again... if you were up for it?”

“It's too dangerous Stiles,”

“The potion has completely worn off now, I can touch you just fine,” Stiles pressed a finger into one of Derek's pectorals, “See?” he slid his finger across Derek's chest, “Fine,” slowly he flattening out his hand, getting distracted. Derek shrugged him off. “Unless we're talking about me getting hurt and you getting hurt and everything always ending in tragedy in which case I'm going to try out that movie thing and kiss you right now to shut you up – which for future reference I always thought looked super annoying,” 

“Look at all the bad things that happened when there wasn't even anyone _trying_ to hurt us? If someone was going to hurt you to get to me...” Derek turned his face away, jaw set.

“Oh,” Stiles shook his head, “That's it,” he wriggled around on the couch and got onto his knees, almost toppling over once because it was surprisingly hard to do with a broken arm, then swung himself around to straddle Derek's lap who let out a surprised huff but settled his hands around Stiles' waist quickly to stop him from falling off, “I'm going to kiss you now,” he informed Derek, before leaning down and pressing their lips together. Derek opened his mouth,

“Stiles,” he protested, muffled through Stiles' lips.

“Nope,” Stiles mumbled himself, “This is for your own good,” he pressed in harder and it was more like he was mashing their faces together than kissing because it was all hard angles and teeth. Derek's hands were tightening around his waist and he wrapped his free arm around Derek's neck, anticipating being thrown off. 

“Uh, what are you two doing?” Isaac asked from the doorway.

“Isaac they're kissing,” Lydia rolled her eyes. 

“They don't look like they're enjoying it,” he observed.

“Well it is Stilinski,” Jackson noted. 

“Hey, what does that mean?” Stiles broke off his assault on Derek to glare up at Jackson. Jackson opened his mouth but Lydia elbowed him in the ribs,

“I think it's time that we left now,” 

Jackson allowed himself to be dragged off reluctantly and Isaac disappeared back into the kitchen with Erica, Allison and Boyd. Stiles looked down at Derek. 

“You know I'm a pretty awful person right,” he said softly, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted to show you that I was prepared to... I don't know, fight for you or something stupid like that? Fight you for you? Actually that would be kinda hot, two yous--”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted him and if Stiles didn't know better he'd have thought he was fighting back a smile. 

“Sorry. If you really don't want this then I'll listen but every time I ask you hesitate and come up with these reasons you don't seem to believe...” he felt like if he kept turning around the puzzle piece he could eventually make it fit. 

“I want this,” Derek said softly, “And I want to be the one who stops this before you get hurt,” 

“Sorry to break this to you but I think this way is also going to hurt me too,”

“Not for as long,” 

“Pfft,” Stiles snorted. He sat back on Derek's knees, putting a little distance between them so he could look at him properly, “That spell was a love spell, not lust or attraction spell, love. You thought it was cast on you which means for some dumb reason you love me and I thought it was cast on me which means I...” he faltered a little because he couldn't really say those words yet to Derek's face so he finished with, “guess I really like you too,” 

Derek smirked, “Well I guess that's good to know,” his cheeks were reddening. 

“So stop being a dick and play with mine! Or uh, make out with me at least,” 

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, dropping his head onto Stiles' shoulder in exasperation. Stiles patted the back of his neck.

“There there,” he said sympathetically. He glared at Boyd, Erica and Isaac who were all openly watching them now from the kitchen doorway. His expression froze though when he felt Derek's lips against his neck, soft and open. He wasn't really into exhibitionism but he couldn't stop the little moan that escaped his throat when Derek started kissing his way upwards, stubble rubbing against Stiles' jaw as he made his way up to his earlobe and sucked it into his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head as Derek tongued at his flesh for a moment before he gasped out, “I'm hate myself for having to point this out but you do realise your Betas are all watching us right now,” Derek bit down on his ear and let out a soft growl. The shuffling of feet told him that they'd at least moved out of his eyeline but any further than that and he ceased to care as Derek was now kissing his way up to his mouth. He dragged his tongue against Stiles' bottom lip then slid it slowly inside. Stiles shuddered and let him, pressing their mouths together quickly then having to pull back to cough out an over-excited breath of air before diving back in. 

“Now you guys are finally doing it can we come back in and watch the movie?” Erica called. 

Derek pulled back. He looked up at Stiles and darted in to press a quick kiss to his lips. Then another. 

“Guys?” it was Isaac this time. 

“Geez!” Stiles pulled back this time, “You guys have seen Spiderman 3 before and it sucks!”

“But it's funny,” Isaac complained.

“No, it is not even so bad it's good, it's so bad it's good no it's definitely bad!” 

“I definitely didn't follow that,” Boyd said, stepping out of the kitchen with popcorn, followed by Isaac and Erica and Allison... oh yeah, Scott was still here too, looking the most embarrassed out of the group. Stiles sighed and with Derek's help climbed off his lap and settled himself back into position at his side. Erica dropped down on Derek's other side and Boyd sat at her feet, wrapping one arm around her leg and leaning his head on her knee. Isaac sat on the wide couch arm and Scott lingered awkwardly behind them for a second before dropping down into the armchair that Derek usually sat in away from the rest of the pack. He squeezed up and Allison slid in next to him. Stiles slipped his hand into Derek's and smiled. His expression soon changed to one of horror when the movie started of course, but then Derek would rub their knees together or squeeze his hand and he decided that maybe the film was a little funny after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought that before 3B started and I dehydrated from tears and sweat I would write something nice and fluffy where everyone is alive and people are making out and liberally using sausage innuendos.


End file.
